Words Go Stale

The words grow stale in the mouth
They dry and expand so that you can neither swallow nor spit them out

To chew on the same ideas
You feel destined
Spend so much time trying to solve a problem
The problems themselves become an obsession
What was beautiful at the start
What began as expression
Has lost all its art
And become only another ode to depression

Sometimes I wish i were a writer
And one With ideas subtle, clever, and occasionally coy
But I feel furthest from that
Like every word put to paper is just another ploy

Designed to keep me entwined
With all the worst parts of my own mind

Instead of what could be
Like How to fall in love with life again.
How to be happy
and how to beat all these addictions

Looked up heaven in a Dictionary
It didn’t say it was Somewhere where we
Did not know hardship
It only said where we end up when we’re dead
Or where we find joy and peace
I wonder if it’s possible to find those things
Before we lose this heart’s beat